We're on our wedding photographers' blog!
Click here.

And check out the awesome slideshow they made here:
and here!

I am SO pleased with how the pictures came out. Not only did the Nolens do a wonderful job, but they were great to have around on our wedding day. I don't think we could have found a better fit. They understood what we wanted out of our day, and they kept a low-profile, but they captured some amazing shots. I felt so comfortable having them with us. I can't wait to see our album--the finished product!

My last two posts have both been sort of melancholy, so here's an anecdote to lighten the mood a bit.

I used to have a shirt for Yale's squash team. I don't really know why. My parents and I went to New Haven and were being touristy, and I thought it was a cool shirt. (I also bought a Yale swimming shirt, which made much more sense.) I don't even know exactly what the sport of squash entails.

But that's not really what this post is about.

It's about Squash: The Vegetable.

I really like squash. I also like cucumber and zucchini, so I think it must be something about the structure of the seeds within them. I bought like 800 (okay, maybe more like 8) yellow squash at the grocery store the other day, because I am a young cook and have no idea how much these things yield. I was going to make a squash casserole that called for 6 cups of diced squash, whatever that means. All I knew was I had a bunch of squash.

But then life happened, and we have spent all week nibbling on the hashbrown casserole I made last weekend, so heck if I was going to add ANOTHER casserole to the fridge. So instead, I just made steamed squash with onions. And apparently, 8 squash (18...800...however many I had) yields a LOT of little squash discs. Oops. But as I said, I like squash, which I decisively exclaimed after eating my portion.

However, Hubby is not as fond of squash. In fact, Hubby did not even eat his squash. (He did eat his salad though, so we don't have to make him stay at the table until he finishes his vegetables.)

The moral of this story is, ask your husband if he likes squash before you cook dinner, or you'll end up with a large container of it in the fridge like we now have!

Maybe we can play squash with it? Or maybe I will just go heat it up for lunch. :-)

I have been feeling wistful lately, and I am not really sure why.

wistful: full of yearning or longing; sad and thoughtful

Do you ever struggle with knowing how you're "supposed" to feel at various points in your life?

Throughout college, I often browsed other people's facebook pictures and felt like I was missing out on the college experience. I don't know what I thought the college experience was, because I was certainly in college, having an experience. And I had friends tell me at various points that they were envious of the experiences MY friends and I seemed to be having in college (via facebook pictures). I've learned that it shouldn't be surprising when the very person you're jealous of is also jealous of you for a different reason.

I'm sort of doing the same thing with Wedding now. I keep looking at other people's wedding pictures and wondering what people think of mine if they run across them on facebook. Isn't that silly? But somehow knowing what people think of me helps validate my experiences. In fact, I used to sometimes feel like my life wasn't really real until I told someone else about it and they responded. But right now, I'm in such a different place in my life than most of my friends that they can't exactly validate me. I'm in such a different place in my life than even I expected to be at this point (while we're on the subject of expectations). So I guess I'm struggling with not really knowing how I'm supposed to feel, because I don't even know how to validate myself. And that's making me wistful.

And it's also a wistful-making thing to see pictures of your friends doing all of the things you objectively "should" be doing, like ringing the bell on the last day of class. I took a different road, and I'm not complaining. I am so thankful to be where I am with the person I'm with. I just haven't found my niche here yet, my people, my things to do. It will all come. This is not abnormal.

But maybe I should stop putting so much stock in facebook pictures.

My dad sent me this really interesting review of a book about choice. The author of the book once conducted a study about jam options in the supermarket, which has apparently become somewhat iconoclastic in the world of...whatever world her study inhabits. So in an effort to make the study feel more like "hers" again, she has written this new book, waxing more philosophical about choice and asking more questions than she draws conclusions.

She brings up some thoughts I can definitely agree with. "More choice is not always better," she suggests, "but neither is less. The optimal amount of choice lies somewhere in between infinity and very little, and that optimum depends on context and culture."

I've found that I don't really like making choices, especially when it comes to big-ticket items. For example, I gave Hubby input as to what I wanted my engagement ring to look like, but I ultimately wanted him to pick. If I pick something out for myself, I will constantly second-guess it, but if someone else picks it out for me, I will sentimentally appreciate it for the rest of my life.

But that's petty.

The author then relates choice to religion. She says, "If keeping kosher or refraining from alcohol makes you feel constrained and helpless, you can abandon those strictures. The only people left in the restrictive groups are those who value the rules. In a modern, liberal society, religious observance does not “take away” choice. It is a choice."

I suppose I have chosen, by following Christ, to be a member of one of these "restrictive" groups. But as she suggests, it is somehow in these strictures that I manage to find freedom. I think it boils down to the direction in which you are pointing your life.

My friend S. and I once took a class on creativity. It was an Honors discussion class, and we went in circles and circles and circles during every class, hardly drawing any conclusions as to what creativity was or is. I felt mentally exhausted and frustrated after every class, because I wanted some ANSWERS. I remember walking toward the post office with her one day after class and discussing relativism. We decided it was exhausting. We decided having an ultimate Truth helps guide us so much. By taking away some of our options, it actually makes us feel more free, and definitely more confident in our choices.

The author of the book sort of ended up there, too. "Human beings, Iyengar suggests, are born to choose. But human beings are also born to create meaning. Choice and meaning are intertwined. We use choice to define our identities, and our choices are determined by the meanings we give them."

When life has a Meaning, every Choice means a little bit more.

One of my favorite moments from my wedding day doesn't involve my groom (though most of them do). See, I have these friends. We all met each other freshman year because most of us lived in the basement of Margaret Daniel dorm on the so-called Honors Hall. A couple of us somehow got adopted into our MDB pseudo-sorority throughout the remainder of that year. And all of us have stuck it out. Here we are now, just about 4 years later. I've graduated, and everyone else is about to in May. My friends have some pretty kickin' plans: Austin, TX for grad school, Peru to work for a missions organization, Colorado to work for Compassion International (followed by a year in France as an au pair), Ameri Corps VISTA at our alma mater, New Orleans to do home repair ministry, and who knows what other awesomeness along the way. In other words, we are scattering literally across the globe.

I really don't like goodbyes. And though I like to think I am good at keeping in touch with people, I'm finding that I really am not, mostly because I've discovered I sort of hate talking on the phone. And I also struggle with remembering that I NEED companionship, especially of the female variety. Large groups wear me out, and I find it easy to settle into convincing myself that Hubby is the only friend I need, and even getting tired just thinking about trying to keep up with/make other friends. (I know that might sound lame and anti-social, but it's true, and I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way.) So that being said, I worry sometimes about what the future holds for these friends and me. We've said we want to be those sweet ladies who get together once a year in some exotic place and for a weekend everything is just like it always was...but friendships like that take work. I pray we will do what it takes, but regardless, I've had countless reminders over the last few years that these girls have become an indelible part of my life.

I put this song by Ingrid Michaelson on our wedding reception playlist called "You and I" per the suggestion of several of these aforementioned friends. Ingrid Michaelson sort of became "our" artist over the last year or so, and I thought it was a happy, appropriate song for a wedding. I imagined them smiling and being happy when they heard it start playing, but it just so happened that I was standing by their table when it did. We all DID smile, and proceeded to sing at the top of our lungs, drawing glances and bemused smiles from around the room. We kept on. And when the musicians in the recording starting clapping a beat, well by golly, we did too.

I had such a blast in those few moments. I felt like I was in a daze for much of my wedding day, overwhelmed by emotions that didn't quite surface until Hubs and I were at home the next night. But I really felt that moment with my friends. And what I felt was love, pure and unbounded.

So I have Hubby, and that day marked the beginning of this awesome ride we are on together. But when I look back, I will also remember these girls, my basement girls. And it will remind me that this I sure has a lot of you's. (Click on the picture to see everyone.)